


Doves' Eyes

by Anonymous



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Growing Up, King Creativity - Freeform, Long, M/M, Medieval Medicine, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Underage, Period-Typical Warfare, Royal life, period-typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Remus and Roman. Roman and Remus.To question their love is to misunderstand everything they are, everything that makes them themselves."If only you were to me like a brother,who was nursed at my mother’s breasts!Then, if I found you outside,I would kiss you,and no one would despise me."- Song of Songs, 8:1- Written by the Post Master General
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, King Creativity - Freeform/The Dragon Witch - Freeform
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Post Man has Mail





	Doves' Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shúirí  
> A mháithairin mhín ó, cuir na roithléan go dtí mé  
> ~  
> Oh gentle daughter, here come the wooing men  
> Oh gentle mother, put the wheels in motion for me
> 
> \- Dúlamán (Traditional Irish folk song)

His Royal Highness Roman, Prince of Alcenon and Duke of the Sea of Mira, didn't understand, not really, when King Eochaid had come to the nursery where he had been playing with his brother. His Royal Highness Remus, Prince of Gloire and Duke of the Southern Taigas, was focused very much on the blocks that he and his brother had begun to pile up. 

They very much did not often see their monarch, the man that had become their father in every way but one. Prince Roman pulled away when the King approached, but his movement was stopped by his nurse. Prince Remus' nurse held him still, the boy still focused on his tower.

Roman obeyed the silent order to approach the King when his Majesty reached out to him. The King picked him up, shushing him gently when Roman made a small grunt.

"We are going to talk for a little while, your Highness," King Eochaid murmured. The King pressed a kiss to Roman's forehead, and that was when Roman knew that he was to be scolded. He let out a whimper, but the King held one piece of his heir apparent, Roman burying his face in the King's jacket collar. It smelled of warmth and spices.

"Hush, little one," the King whispered, and Roman found his body relaxing, his defenses falling. His King murmured a tune that Roman often fell victim to when he was being his normal rambunctious self and he needed to heed his superior's words, as the Morrígna - the draconian one who had become his mother in all ways but one - used it often. His Majesty the King excused himself, bidding the nannies to care for Prince Remus while he took Roman from the room. Roman stayed with his face in the King's collar, biting at one of the metallic decals of embroidery of his jacket. 

The King left the nursery, Roman only slightly jostled by the motions. The door closing behind them, the King began to walk down the hallway. With his little rabbit teeth, Roman continued to nibble at the wonderful decal that highlighted the regal nature of the King. The walk was nice and quiet, the diligent guards patrolling the hallways and stopping to greet the King and Prince with salutes. 

The greetings and good-byes were short and silent on the parts of the Royals, the soldiers themselves only saying "Your Majesty, Your Highness," being sent off with a nod from the King and a wave from the Prince. That was the amount of trust they had, few words and little action to dissuade them from using anything against the King. Roman often kept an eye on the guards, admiring their shining armor that was polished enough to function as plates of mirrors and whose stance was firm enough to compare to mountains. The King Eochaid let Roman indulge in this, one of the numerous freedoms that the Prince was allowed while under education to become the next reigning Monarch alongside his dear Prince of Gloire. 

They passed by a painting, one that the King Eochaid had painted close to the Beginning. It seemed to be years, as time passed differently here compared to the world that existed outside of them; that is what the King had said, Roman still confused as to what his Majesty's words meant. The young boy in the portrait looked just a bit older than Roman but almost completely alike; he only knew that because the boy looked like Remus, and he had been told that, without a mirror, Roman could always look to Remus to see his own features. 

Ard-Rí Thomas. 

The High King. 

It was amazing to think that King Eochaid served someone even higher than himself. Roman often would stay to stare up at the painting, wide eyes looking for any features of the High King that could let Roman know of any real youth to the boy. Roman could see when the boy would gain another freckle, get a tan from the sun, or would need another bandage from the games that he would play. Ard-Rí Thomas looked so youthful and energetic, ready to jump out of the full-body portrait that the King had painted. 

Roman so much wanted to meet him, but he knew that he wasn't ready; his father the King said that he needed more of an education and more training before Roman could be entrusted to care for Ard-Rí Thomas. He and Remus would both be taking care of the person who was called the High King, for if Thomas didn't exist, neither would anything else. Remus had told Roman that Thomas was young, still a boy himself, and Roman had told Remus that Thomas was not just young but nubile in mind as well. 

Thomas had dreams, ideas, and those ideas had birthed... Everything. 

"Your mind wanders, child. You've stopped your nibbling on my embroidery." 

Roman looked up to his father, his own face flushing. He felt a small pit of shame in his belly; he should have grown past such behavior already, as Remus had, but he still had the fixation of having something to suckle upon or to brandish his teeth upon from his infancy. It had been three months since he had learned to walk and then to read and write; self-soothing of a child's variety still escaped him. 

"Don't worry, Roman, you will find how to do such things eventually."  


Roman buried his face again, biting at his lips. They would turn red and plump and painful, but he didn't have mind to care. His father merely chuckled, a laugh that held a levity that Roman did not often hear. 

Roman closed his eyes, tapping into the little bit of the unknown that he had at his disposal. Oh, he loved feeling the light that his father emitted. King Eochaid held enough energy inside of himself to be overflowing, but the meniscus on the energy never allowed anything to spill out, never allowed it to spread uncontrollably. Roman and Remus had only a budding spring of magic between them, but when they both tapped into it, neither were injured nor was either found limited in their magic in any way. However, Remus was someone that Roman needed just to breathe, just to feel alive and like the magic under his skin was worth something greater than himself; their father King Eochaid was an energy that Roman needed in a different way, to feel that he was worthy of not only being present and alive, but King Eochaid let Roman know that existing itself was a gift. 

The scolding and the screaming were nothing when King Eochaid loved Roman so. The strikes they received when misbehaving were nothing when Remus was there. 

This was love, right? 

"Here we are, little one."

Roman was settled onto the floor as his father opened a large door, its partner staying closed. Roman followed the King's silent order to enter, and he heard his father follow. Inside was a bit dark, but the sunset that was coming in through the window was bright, fiery, and it made Roman rush forward to enjoy the golden-orange light. He wondered if the carpet that he stood on was as warm as the Sun made him.

He turned to his father, who merely nodded while he walked to a shelf. Roman knew that his attention would be called for, so he meticulously tried to enjoy every moment of sunshine that he could appreciate. The Sun had made a nearby stool rather warm, and so Roman sat there, childishly enjoying the warmth that traveled through his rump to warm the rest of him. He relaxed there, unknowing of how the golden Sun made the air around him glow, sparked into life by his own magic. Oh, Roman was indeed magical, but he was unaware of how powerful he was, oblivious to the world about him save for his father, mother, and his precious brother - and the lovely warmth from the stool he sat upon.

He had taken to letting his head rest against the sofa that was next to the stool when his father called for him. The impulse to obey ignited and Roman did so, leaving his perch somewhat reluctantly. He went to where the King sat behind a table. King Eochaid picked him up and set him on his lap.

Roman looked to what his father had grabbed and there was a book, full of words that Roman didn't understand quite yet. His father had said that once he and Remus met Student, they would be able to understand much more, even the complicated logs that their father kept in the large safe in his room.

"Roman, I will be dying soon."

Roman shot his head up, his eyes burning once that word settled in, "dying". Roman looked King Eochaid over for any injury, his small hands reaching up to feel for any carbuncle or foul-bubble of humour that needed to be soothed. His father grabbed his little hands and brought them to rest over his heart.

"No, my Prince, this is something that cannot be cured or repaired."

"Why?"

Roman buried his face in the King's coat, ignoring the cold metal against his cheeks from the King's filigree. His tears were being soaked up by the black fabric, his shoulders shaking. The King shushed him, carding his fingers through his boy's hair.

"Calm down, my Prince, my son. I have already told Remus and he did much the same as you, so I will tell you the same that I told him." The King gestured for Roman to look at the book, and Roman did, rubbing his little hands and fists over his eyes to stem the flow of tears. There was a childish drawing on the page, lacking in precision but still full of the King's magic and something else... something more.

Ard-Rí< Thomas had been feeling vengeful toward his brother. It was a young emotion, nothing harsh. It was much like when you and Remus fight over a toy. Does that make sense?"

Roman nodded slowly. He didn't know that their father ever watched them play; he tried to focus on the fact that their High King was a child, just like him and Remus. 

"His own parents thought that the drawing he made about... 'electrocuting' his brother, was harmful and he was disciplined for it." 

"Wasn't he just playing? You never make the High King do anything, right? You just help him express himself and play, right?" 

The King nodded, flipping through the book and showing other pictures that Ard-Rí Thomas had created alongside King Eochaid. 

"Roman, these pictures and all you see around you is what Thomas has the ability to imagine and create. He is limited in the Real World, yes, but he emotionally is held in check by Shield, Care, Student, and especially by Guard. They help him make decisions and ideas, but he cannot just be limited. For Thomas to grow, he must be able to express freely, either to everyone around him or to himself." 

"Like when I get nervous... And I bite your coat?" 

"Yes. You express yourself that way and now you are able to use more words to tell me how you are feeling," the King praised, pleased that his son understood. "That will be your task, as well as your brother's. You will help Thomas express himself here or in the Real World." 

Roman nodded. He still felt small, but if his father the King held confidence in them, Roman and Remus would be able to care for Thomas! 

"Remus and you, Roman, will be very powerful. You both must learn to get along with the others, all right? Only if there is great threat to him do you openly defy them." 

"Yes, papa." 


End file.
